


A moment of peacetime

by potter-you-git (Socks7)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, drunk!Moneypenny, drunk!q, ikr the only one, not drunk Bond, party at mi6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socks7/pseuds/potter-you-git
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A party at MI6, how unprofessional. How does one rather anti-social, introvert deal with such things? He gets drunk of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A moment of peacetime

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to obfuscatress for being an amazing beta. I apparently have a thing for comma splicing. xD

Invitations for the MI6 summer party, if slightly inappropriate in most people’s eyes, were well received. After a series of botched missions at the beginning of the year, there had been a much higher success rate over the last couple of months, and they had gone the longest amount of time in five years without losing an agent in the field. Three months may not seem much to most ordinary folk, but those at MI6 knew how special it was. They all knew what it was like to hear the static at the other end of the comms.  
Q, however, was an anomaly. He was pacing more than usual, running his hands through his hair more frequently, and getting irritated much faster. Many of his so-called minions were keeping out of his way, giving messages with their heads bowed, and their bodies in flight mode. They flitted around him, creating a diameter around Q, for fear that he would shout, not something that anyone wanted to hear. It’s always the quiet ones that shout the loudest after all.  
“Q. Q!”  
Q turned away from his laptop, coffee mug in hand, bags under his eyes, and his hair sticking up at many angles. “Yes, Moneypenny?”  
“You’ve got everyone on edge, could you lighten up a bit, please? We’re having a summer party next week, and you’re kind of ruining the mood.”  
There was a silence. Everyone in Q-Branch stopped typing and stared.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Q, I was just saying-“  
“We are MI6, Miss Moneypenny. I thought you of all people should know that, after having told me a million times. Aren’t we supposed to stay professional? A party is more likely to end the world than to save it.”  
“Q, I think you need a break.”  
“If I took a day off just because I was feeling a bit tired, MI6 would not function. I can run MI6 from here. Could you imagine what would happen if I left every time I felt a little sleepy? MI6 would collapse.” Q was glaring. His glasses may have slipped down his face, but they gave him the look of a serious headmistress, who was looking down at a student as though they were a tiny ant getting in their way.  
“It’s no use, Moneypenny.” The smooth tones of 007’s voice filled the void of silence that had been left by Q’s scathing words.“He’s under the impression that alcohol and people aren’t worth his time.”  
“007.” Q’s mouth opened ever so slightly, then he blushed, placed his mug down, and simultaneously tried to fix his hair. So he ended up hitting himself in the head with his mug.  
“Q, mind yourself.”  
“I am, 007, I’m a little out of it, that’s all.”  
“But MI6 relies on you. We can’t have you feeling out of it, it would, what did you say, ‘collapse’?”  
“Oh shut up, 007.”  
“She’s right you know.” Bond walked over to Q.“You need a break. Go to the party next week.”  
“I hate parties.”  
“I know, but this is a work party, so it’s kind of your thing.”  
Q huffed a little at that, but the corners of his mouth betrayed a small smirked very briefly, and Bond made the move to leave.  
“I don’t think so, 007. Where’s the multi-purpose watch that I so lovingly created?”

*  
Eve Moneypenny was sat at a white table in a café, leaning on her hand with glee dancing in her eyes. “Strange how only a couple of words from James swayed you to go, huh?”  
Q sat across the way, his eyes firmly fixed on his coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
Eve hummed. She continued to stare at Q, her eyes boring into his hair until he looked up.  
“Stop it.”  
“I’m not doing anything.”  
“You’re looking at me, and doing that, that, thing…”  
Eve raised her eyebrows and sat back in her uncomfortable plastic chair. She began to tap her foot against the table, biding her time until…  
“Fine! For god’s sake.” Q’s brows were furrowed and a pout was drawn onto his face, “I may find James attractive, emphasis on the may, but he is my colleague, and I outrank him. I do not wish to expand this further, okay Eve?”  
She waited a little longer.  
“I may have found him attractive since I met him, but, but, it’s wrong, we work together, and I don’t like him. No, that’s far too childish. I don’t like him in that way, he’s just a colleague.”  
“Hmm.”  
“And, and, tit's a violation of a dozen rules.”  
Only one eyebrow raised from Eve was enough to signal her understanding.  
Q dropped his head, once again clouding his vision with the steam from his coffee. “Shit.”  
*  
The party was not really what Q was expecting. After all, they were a group of the best and the brightest. The top of the UK, with many belonging to pedigree families, so a quiet, calm party was what he was expecting. To say he was wrong is not a strong enough word to convey how mistaken he was.  
A group of adults, stressed out, worrying about their lives and other people’s lives as their job, every day, creates the perfect environment for the perfect party. Of course not all of the staff were there. It was mostly the younger ones, the ones still reeling from the first time the comms went silent, hoping they never had to experience it again, while deep down knowing, from the looks on the older faces, how one silent comms experience was nothing.  
Q tried to walk in quietly, but he did not go unnoticed by those from Q-Branch, shouts of ‘you made it’ and ‘welcome Q’ made him very uneasy. He decided that the best plan to enjoy this horrendous thing was to drink his way into submission, numbing the feelings that lots of social interaction gave him. He didn’t care what it was or how tasteless, he was drowning himself in it.  
*  
Bond strolled towards the building. The slight wind caught his blazer as he made his way to the party. His feet made barely any sound and those who passed him barely noticed his presence. Even though London was a constant clash of hundreds of sounds, he felt as though it was peaceful. The eye of the hurricane that he hoped wouldn’t last too long. It was his experience that the longer the calm the worse the storm.  
He could hear the faint thumping of music coming from inside, muffled laughter and mumbled conversations drifted through the open window. It was different from what he was used to. Some may call it a welcome break, but to James Bond, it was merely a formality. It was his way of pretending that he lived a life outside of his job, a performance partially to please those he worked with, and partially to trick himself. Double-0 agents are liars after all.  
Bond entered the party, nodding at familiar faces, calculating the amount of time he had to stay until it was only rude that he had left so early. He made his way past young agents and a variety of those who could only be described as Q’s minions. Everyone was talking enthusiastically, most of the time cutting each other off, conversations being clipped short and distorted, with only some patrons attempting to dance to the pounding noise coming from the set of speakers at the edge of the living room.  
“James!” Eve was beaming at him, having appeared out of nowhere.  
“Hello, Moneypenny.” His reply was clipped, trying as hard as he could to subtly say ‘push off’.  
“The alcohol isssss, it’s in the kitchen.” She paused and suddenly burst out with an “Oh! I think I, no wait you, yeah, you should, erm talk to Q.” Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed. She rocked ever so slightly.  
“Right, fine. Are you going to be okay Moneypenny?”  
“What are you talking about James? I’m the soberest.” She nodded, her whole upper body joining in.  
Bond gave up, just opting to leave the conversation and Moneypenny. She was in no danger, flanked by the best, and it was such a shame to see bright agents lose their vocabulary after only two glasses. Bond knew he would take at least six.  
Wandering into the kitchen, pushing past people when he needed to, Bond finally made his way to the alcohol. On his almost treacherous trip, he had decided three drinks would be a satisfactory number to keep the other party-goers off his case when they returned to work. He started to scour the cupboards, looking for the hard stuff, something strong and hearty.  
“James.” The s was slightly elongated and the name sounded foreign and wrong coming from that voice. It was also oddly endearing.  
“Q.” Bond turned, and as he did so, came to the conclusion that he should never have come here at all. He never had a problem with being rude before.  
“Ididn’texpec’ you.” Q’s words were tripping over one another, trying to be the first to be said.  
“Blimey Q, how much have you drunk?”  
“I, err, how dare, uh, dare you, James. You am, no no no, wait, I am fine. Verrry, very sober!” He lifted his hands in a flourish, though they were wonky, and it was more Q just throwing his arms about.  
“Yes, I can see that.”  
Q guffawed, throwing his head back and flashing white teeth at Bond. Abruptly he stopped and he folded into himself, grabbing the counter nearby, lifting his head just slightly so that his eyes peered out from underneath his hair. He was silent.  
Bond saw Q then. He saw the man behind the comms properly. Huge bags under his eyes, a slightly distanced look, as though he was looking at something just past Bond. Q’s shirt and trousers may have been carefully chosen, but his hair had been slept in, though not in a bed, judging by its impossible angles. He was a man who had no time to care about his appearance. Someone who only had the time to care about his agents.  
“Oh, Q,” Bond breathed.  
Q lifted his head so it was more level with Bond’s. His breathing was heavy and his hands lay limply at his sides.  
“You care, don’t you?”  
Q said nothing and his body was still, except for the rise and fall of his chest in long, shaky breaths. Tears began to form in his eyes.  
Bond was not used to feeling helpless, it was something he could barely remember, just peoples’ lives he could have saved and fitness tests he had failed in his past. He did what he thought was best. “Come here.”  
The words felt strange leaving his mouth, but he knew it was what Q needed, and when he realised this, he was struck by the feeling that maybe those words weren’t so wrong after all. Reaching out his arms, he clasped them around Q’s back, pulling him close.  
“Caring, Q, that’s the one thing I could never learn.”  
Q pulled back slightly, his eyes coming back into focus. “I could teach you.”  
The music suddenly seemed deafening and the kitchen seemed to separate from the rest of the world. Q reached a hand behind Bond’s head, resting it gently on Bond’s neck. Q’s other hand reached for Bond’s tie and he pulled. Bond allowed himself to fall and let his hands entwine in Q’s soft hair. He could taste the alcohol on Q’s tongue. He pulled him close, wanting Q more, needing Q more.  
They broke apart, both panting lightly. Q was starting to sway and his eyelids were only just open. Bond could see him falling, catching him before Q cracked his head on the counter.  
“Don’t want to see you lose any of those brain cells Q.”  
He pulled Q’s left arm over his shoulder, allowing Qs head to bob a little, before slowly dragging Q out of the kitchen and into the living room. They were flanked by drunken agents and a sudden bombardment of questions forced Bond to quicken his pace. He was no less concerned about hurting Q and more concerned about getting him out intact and away from the grabbing hands of drunk agents who only wanted to ‘look at his glasses.’  
Finally outside, Bond lifted Q up into his arms in one swift motion, Q’s legs hung by Bond’s waist, and his neck was supported by Bond’s right arm.  
“Alright, time to go.”  
Bond carried Q through the city streets, all the way to his own flat, smiling when Q shifted a little so that his head burrowed into his chest. At his door he stopped for a moment, turning to look at the skyline, a promise never to be realised.  
*  
Q startled awake. A ceiling he didn’t recognise, a bed that wasn’t his. Even though he wasn't a field agent, he had some training for hostage situations. Rule one was to stay calm, but Q had a thundering headache and was feeling vulnerable. His breath quickened and his sense of reasoning disappeared. Numerous ways of signalling for help flashed through his mind. The steps tumbled over and crashed into one another around him.  
“Q? Are you awake?”  
Q’s breath hitched. “007?” he whispered, “They got you too?”  
“What no, I...” Bond opened the door, “This is my flat Q.”  
A thin film of sweat covered Q’s forehead, so his hair was stuck to it and his face was an almost white. “Oh, right, I thought…”  
An awkward silence filled the gap and Q tried his best to fix it. “Sorry, I just can’t remember anything from yesterday, so I panicked a little.”  
“Rule one is not to panic, Q.”  
“Yes, I know. Anyway, was there anything of note?”  
“At the party?”  
Q made a sound in confirmation.  
“Well, Q, I must say, you are quite the boisterous drunk.” Bond was grinning.  
“Oh god.” Q sunk back into the pillows.  
“No, Q, nothing happened, though I have to be at work soon.”  
“Yes, of course. I’d best be off then, thank you.”  
Bond watched Q make his way to the door. He stopped, resting his hand on the handle.“Really nothing?”  
“If there was, Q, Moneypenny would surely tell you, now wouldn’t she?”  
Q stood in the doorway for a moment and nodded. The door swung shut and the flat was suddenly silent. Bond reached for Q’s still warm blanket on the sofa. If Moneypenny knew, she’d know it meant something.


End file.
